


Maybe. Probably.

by Peril_in_Peace



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: 12 Days of Starmora, F/M, Favorite Scene, Gamora being a good friend, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 1 Scene Tag, Peter Quill Feels, relationship building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 13:44:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12960582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peril_in_Peace/pseuds/Peril_in_Peace
Summary: Gamora picked up the letter gingerly, almost reverently, and ran her fingers over the foreign cursive words, as if she could get to know the woman who wrote them by touching the same paper his mother had so many years ago. “I’m… grateful to her. For helping us.”12 Days of Starmora - Day 5 - Favorite Scene





	Maybe. Probably.

She smiled, bobbing her head to _Ain’t No Mountain High Enough_. Peter smiled back.  

_"The melody is pleasant.”_

It was such a different moment, but Peter realized he _felt_ the same.

The same tight ball of… something… tangled up in his belly that was there on Knowhere, when his usually pretty awesome game had made a conspicuous, hilarious exit and left him grasping at actual, meaningful _words_ about… stuff… to this person he… maybe… well…

_“I couldn’t let you die.”_

He remembered the song a little. It had been such a _long_ time, but it was one of those tunes that was _everywhere_ that _everybody_ knew, and he tried to listen to the words, as if his mom was actually singing them, trying to remember her voice in his head.

He _wanted_ to feel sad for a little while. Just a minute.

Maybe that was why he opened it… _finally_. Suddenly ready, somehow.

_“Take my hand.”_

Peter closed his stinging eyes, remembering some crazy, vivid _almost reality_ where he _did take her hand_ despite a purple haze of pain and confusion...

And when he opened them again, with a deep breath, Gamora was there, sitting beside him on the bunk, his mother’s letter between them.

She just barely touched the corner of the paper.

“You’ve had this since you… left Earth?” she asked. He couldn’t _not_ notice the way she’d carefully chosen her words, echoing what he’d settled on telling her, himself.

He swallowed hard and ran the heel of his hand across his eyes. “Uh--” Nope. Still wet and gravelly. He cleared his throat. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

“You never opened it before.”

It wasn’t _exactly_ a question. But he glanced over at her anyway. She was still looking down at the letter, and Peter realized he didn’t mind at all if she read it.

“No, I never did.”

He was sure what the next question would be. So sure, that Peter was already working through his prepared statements in response. He had a list, ranging from _“None of your goddamn business”_ to various versions of the truth, depending on how well he knew the person asking or (he was honest, if not proud...) how many sympathy points he’d get from the girl.

They always asked _why_. Why he kept it and never opened it.

“What changed?” Gamora nodded down at the crumpled wrapping paper.

Peter’s eyes shot up, and he looked at her, openly confused.

He had been ready with an answer to _“Why?”_ somewhere around, _“Opening it meant making her death feel too real.”_ Or something. Friend-true. True, but not _“I disappointed her on her deathbed and never once in the rest of my life felt like I deserved what she gave me”_ true.

But that wasn’t what she asked.

As well as he could remember, the only other person privy to The Box who _didn’t_ ask _“Why?”_ was Yondu. And to this day, Peter still waffled between wondering if it was because he didn’t _care_ about the answer, or because he _did_ care, and knew all too well exactly what the answer was without _having_ to ask.

Honestly, it was… easier… in many ways… to believe the first reason. With Yondu.

But it hit him like a bolt between the eyes that _Gamora_ didn’t have to ask. No wondering required.

“Is it alright that I...?” Gamora furrowed her eyebrows, and Peter realized that he was still gaping at her, lost in his head.

He blinked a couple times and tried to smile it off. “No… yeah… no, it’s… it’s fine.” He looked away from her, at the floor. “I guess I just… didn’t really think about… I just… _wanted_ to… now. So I did.”

“You almost died,” she whispered. “Such a thing has a way of shifting one’s priorities--”

Peter laughed at that, shaking his head. He caught a glimpse of Gamora’s face, confused and a little offended, and he held his hands up. “Sorry, sorry… it’s just that… I’ve almost died tons of times. It’s not that. I don’t think…”

He glanced down at the letter and picked it up again. “I think… she wanted me to hear what she had to say. That’s all. I’ve been too dense to listen… but… I heard her. Finally.” he said softly, almost forgetting that he was actually talking to Gamora.

“I _saw_ her,” he added. “I mean, not really. I know that, but when we--” he realized he was holding his left hand out, balled into a fist. Gamora nodded. “Everything got real clear for a second, and I saw her. Just like… the last time. Right before she… she died.”

He said it. He really said it that time.

“What did she say? That she wanted you to hear?” Gamora asked, gently. Peter’s side felt warmer, like she’d moved a little closer.

“She said the same thing as... She wanted me to take her hand. Right at the end. She asked me to take her hand, I... _didn’t_ before, but--” He took a deep breath. “But it was really you, wasn’t it? Yelling for me to…”

He stopped and looked at her carefully, wondering how much to say. How honest to be…

“She saved us,” Gamora concluded. “You wouldn’t have listened, if it was just me. Would you?”

Peter swallowed hard, furrowing his brow, and remembered the images from Tivan’s little Infinity Stone intro course back on Knowhere.

“I thought… you’d have just died too,” he shrugged halfheartedly.

“But we didn’t.” Gamora picked up the letter gingerly, almost reverently, and ran her fingers over the foreign cursive words, as if she could get to know the woman who wrote them by touching the same paper his mother had so many years ago. “I’m… grateful to her. For helping us.”

“She… wasn’t there. I know that. But… so am I. And…”

“Maybe she was,” Gamora interrupted softly.

“She wasn’t. She’s dead. Don’t--”

Gamora handed him the letter with both hands. “I don’t know, Peter… an infinity stone is obviously powerful... Known to be able to… _do_ things… bend time, space… reality itself. Maybe that didn’t happen. Probably it didn’t, but… You held it. Used its power to kill Ronan. Maybe... “

She looked at him, a little tentative, but soft… she’s been… softer, since they’d managed to save Xandar. Lighter.

He liked it.

“Maybe,” she said, “What you saw really was her... or some _part_ of her... and for her… there never _was_ a time when you didn’t take her hand, like she asked.”

Peter swallowed hard at that, his eyes welling up. He wiped at his face again, unable to hold back a wet sniffle. “No,” he rasped out. “It wasn’t real.”

“Maybe. _Probably_...” Gamora whispered. “Or maybe something that powerful can do better than a simple hallucination.”

They just looked at each other for a long minute. _Ain’t No Mountain High Enough_ had long since ended and another song was already almost over, lilting piano going just a little chaotic, but still melodic enough to be catchy.

It was one that he didn’t _think_ he’d heard before, but _Lake Shore Drive_ vaguely reminded him of a road trip to a big city in the middle of winter when he was little, going up in a tall building and looking out at a big frozen lake on a day so gray that he couldn’t tell where the ice ended and the sky began. Of falling asleep across the back seat of the station wagon, while his mom and grandfather sang and talked quietly in the front.

Gamora folded both of her hands around his. It almost felt like he remembered _hugs_ being like. And how long had it been since he’d felt something like _that_?

_“He was about the only family I had…”_

_“No. He wasn’t.”_

Peter smiled. It was small, and maybe even still a little sad, but… he thought, for the first time in a _long_ time…

He meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. :)


End file.
